The New Nation - Internet Edition

Abu Bakar Siddiquee

On an auspicious day in almanac I started for my new working place at Dhaka. My mother has a great faith in almanac; it is incredible for me to disobey her, so like my other family members I have had to be accustomed to her belief in almanac.

The journey was of course an auspicious one. Otherwise why should I suddenly meet Rosy apa on this day! It is a long time we left each other, almost eight years has elapsed. In the early years we were in touch, but for the last few years I have not seen them, even did not know their whereabouts. Rosy apa came to the station to see off her husband who is going to Chittagong on some special assignment. My brother-in-law, Rosy apa's husband spotted me in the crowd. Getting over the aphorism of meeting each other after such a long gap Rosy apa asked me, ' where are you staying?'

When she came to know that for the time being I have no other place but a hotel to reside she rather forced me to be a guest of her. Sitting in a shiny new model car on the way to her house Rosy apa enquired of my brother, sister, parents and other tidbits.

In the dining table we were rewinding the memories of our bygone days, even the trifle events befallen in the course of our daily life did not escape the gossip. We were talking this and that, so many things. All of a sudden I asked Rosy apa,

'Do you remember the moment when we first met?'

She smiled at my question, blushed a little and said,

'You were very naughty then.'

I recollect the day when I saw Rosy apa for the first time. Rosy apa's mother, sister of my dad, died few years back. So long Rosy apa was staying with her father, posted in a tea garden of a hilly area where no provision of higher education available. Rosy apa's father made an arrangement of her education in our town and she came to stay with us. While I entered the room Rosy apa was standing beside my father and my uncle was sitting on a couch. Seeing me my father looked sideways towards Rosy apa and said,

'Rosy, here is your brother,' he uttered my name. Then turning towards me he firmly warned that I should be in harmony with the new comer and there should not be any negligence in my study. When my father uttered my name Rosy apa gave a suppressed laugh, which evoked anger in me. Following my father's instruction I led her inside the house.

'Why did you titter on hearing my name?' I asked her.

'Oh! What a big name you have got.' Rosy apa again laughed out.

'What's that to you?' Saying this I gave her a thrust. Somehow she protected herself from a fall. With a stunned eye she looked at me, then smiled sweetly. There was a sort of attraction in her appearance. Looking at her face, suddenly I felt that I have not done a good job. Rosy apa was smiling till then, a pleasant lovely smile. After that I have seen Rosy apa smiling many times but never felt it as pleasant and attractive as the first day. Rather I noticed her innocent smile fading away with time, unaware, to be replaced by a mask of politeness; like a tender green banana leaf, which hardens, cracks, and changes its color against time and wind.

At that time I was about seven or eight and Rosy apa was about thirteen or fourteen years old. She was my playmate as well as school going companion. She was also my opponent of quarrelling or scrambling. One day I collected a newly grown thorn of date- palm tree and pricked Rosy apa's face with it. Consequently her face swelled up; she complained to my mother and I was punished being locked up in a room. In that arrested situation all my grudge and anguish fall upon Rosy apa; I planned to teach her a good lesson. I was weeping with a sense of anger and insult, Rosy apa came silently over the window and offered me the orange of her share. She whispered that after lunch when everybody will go for nap she would bring the key to unlock the door; and really she did the same. Being rescued with her help my banked-up anger took the righteous revenge on her, quite a violent one. In the same evening I threw a small rounded stone with my catapult targeting her forehead, which again made a betel nut swelling. But this time Rosy apa didn't complain. In fact she never made any complaint against me after that day; from then onward I found Rosy apa to be of different; an enduring and affectionate one.

I could not run fast, as I was a fat round child. My neighbour Rini used to say,

'We won't take him in our play. He is fat, can't beat a girl in run.'

Rosy apa never used to tolerate this sort of blame. She would say,

'Who says he can't run fast. None can beat him in run. Alright, I won't let him play in your team, he will be with me.'

Many a day while playing blind man's buff, Rini and others used to make me blind man and I would become tired not being able to catch anyone in the play, all used to make fun of me. But if Rosy apa happened to appear there at that moment I would be saved. With a frown in her face Rosy apa used to shout,

'Why have you all made him blind man? What a show of you big girls!

'Dear brother, you should not play with them.' She used to advice me.

Rini and others used to get angry with her,

'We have made him blind man in the play, what's that to you, Rosy? Bah, look at the chick of her, as if she is the only one who have a brother, as if none of us has no brother!'

Rosy apa never used to reply to their accusation. After returning home in the evening we used to take tea and snacks together. Then she would give me some coin to buy chocolate from the grocers. Sitting side by side in the twilight of evening we used to eat those chocolates.

Days were running in its chore. Gradually I was trying to avoid Rosy apa as my playmate; the play of blinds man's buff, Ludo, Snakes, or Scramble no more interested me. Shahanama, a boy of our locality, used to say that these games are for girls and I also have had my belief so. Rather I was then attracted in the play of marble. I could strike marble accurately from a long distance to harass my opponent to a great extent.

In such a time Rosy apa appeared mysterious to me. Usually it was my habit to rise early from sleep and to pick up the mangoes fallen in the ground of mango grove. Also I used to pick up the fresh ravishing 'Bakul' (mimusops elengi) flower, the creamy green flowerets, from the garden. On that day while I was about to leap from my bed Rosy apa called me,

'Hear me, dear brother!' She appeared enigmatic, but I had no time to ponder over it.I was getting late, so I said, ' Say quickly what you want to say.'

Rosy apa came nearer, carefully looked all around, 'Could you deliver this?' she whispered.

She was holding a light blue colored envelope in her hand. I asked,

'To whom?'

'To Hamid Bhai, you will find him in his house. Give this to him and tell that I have given it, will you?

'Yes, I will.'

Hastily stowing the envelope in my pant's pocket I ran. Rosy apa called me back with an anxious look,

'Listent listen…

I got annoyed and said,

'Why are you calling me? Don't you see that I am getting late?'

Rosy apa very tenderly said,

'Dear little brother, be careful not to let it seen by anybody, and give this flower also.'

She gave a red rose. Taking the flower from her I just ran. On that day I did not have much time to think over that. Perhaps, that's why I am remembering all those memory today.

Running hurriedly to the garden I found many vermilion red mangoes at the ground and immensely pleased. Possession of so many mangoes at a time seemed to me a good luck at that age of mine. I picked up all the mangoes one after another, kept them in pockets of pant, the rest I took in my hand. Delighted with joy I returned home and kept the mangoes in my cubbyhole. I choose a red ripe mango for Rosy apa and thought her face will glow up seeing the lovely mango. But as soon as she saw me she asked about the blue envelope and red rose. Puzzled I was thinking what to answer; just at moment my Mom appeared to say something to Rosy apa. I avail the opportune and quickly slipped off outside.

Actually I had totally forgotten to hand over Rosy apa's letter and flower to Hamid Bhai. Coming to a safe place I took out the envelope and wearied to see the condition; the astringent juice of mango glued the blue envelope and the red rose. I was in doubt whether the letter will be readable. So with a fearful mind I sat behind a gardenia flower bush and ripped the envelope. The first few lines of the letter became indistinct and blurred by the sticky mango juice. I felt bad. Moreover, I could not understand the meaning of those lines clearly. I took the help of Farid, the all-known boy of our locality.

Farid read the ruined and indistinct letter like a wise man. He clapped me on my back and said,

'A love letter, if you can handle the lovebird Hamid Bhai you will be able to earn at least a coin of four ana daily from him. Then you won't have to think for buying kite, reel of thread and chocolate. Work very watchfully, understand?'

Farid's words scared me more. At noon I could not take my meal properly. After lunch I went out to avoid Rosy apa. In the night also Rosy apa didn't get any chance to speak to me. Next morning when I was about to run towards garden Rosy apa stood in front of me. With hesitation she looked all around and asked,

'Did you hand over the letter to Hamid Bhai yesterday?'

'Yes. I have given it to him.' To save myself I replied.

'Did he said anything to you?' Rosy apa asked.

'No, he did not get any chance to tell me something.'

'Oh!' Rosy apa became sad.

Not to prolong the conversation I promptly ran towards the garden.

After that Rosy apa remained indifferent and confined herself in the room. Two days have passed; I could see that Rosy is very sad and constantly looking towards the direction of Hamid Bhai's house through the window of her study.

The circumstances were changing very quickly. All of a sudden Mom became discontented with Rosy apa and scolding her almost for nothing. One night I woke up from deep sleep by the high tempered voice of Dad. I heard the sound of sob, some words like Hamid…filthy…. you shameless, Mom also supporting Dad in between his words. I could understand the matter to some extent. I remembered the words of Farid and failed to sleep the whole night. In the early morning I fall asleep and could not go to the garden. I woke up at the call of my mother. This time also she found fault of Rosy apa relating my late rise saying that all the bad habits she is teaching to me.

It was after two days that Rosy apa's father came to our house. He not only rebuked Rosy apa but also slapped her. In the morning I came to know that Rosy apa would be admitted in a residential college. Within a week all the arrangements were made. On the day of her departure I wept bitterly; she consoled me, wiped my eyes with her handkerchief. But I found her kerchief bewet and her voice broken.

Time hung heavy on me after Rosy apa's departure. I could not even utter her name in front my Mom or Dad; some unknown fear barred me. One day, in the afternoon, my way back from school I found Hamid Bhai standing in the road leading to college, leaning over a bicycle. To me he seemed to be intolerable, because Rosy apa had to suffer so much for him.

Still I approached him thinking that I may get some news about Rosy apa from him. But before I could get him a smart college girl came and started gossiping with him. I stopped there waiting. After a while Hamid Bhai left the place and the girl also took the road of college.

June-July was the month of vacation in our school. One afternoon my father returned home in a happy jolly mood and informed us that Rosy apa has passed her Intermediate Examination with a good mark. I became very glad. Also I became happy that Rosy apa is admitted in B.A. class, which my uncle wrote in his letter.

Few months later I came to know that Hamid Bhai passed his B.A Examination with credit and it was celebrated joyfully in his house. Almost immediately Hamid Bhai married that college girl. I attended their wedding ceremony. After marriage Hamid Bhai went to study M.A.

While studying in college Rosy apa wrote a letter to me. As my father gave the letter to me with a good mood I dared to reply her. In that letter I wrote about Hamid Bhai's marriage. Very quickly I received a reply from her, which seemed me not a letter but a metaphorical expression of Rosy apa's pain and agony of love. This time I could not reply in time as my Matriculation Examination was near.

As soon as my examination is over Rosy apa got married. I was hearing about her marriage for quite a long time, which is to be celebrated in our house. Rosy apa came to our house after appearing her B.A examination. My uncle has made arrangement of her marriage in our house. I am seeing Rosy apa after so many years. She looked more beautiful and smart. Her dress, manner, gesture, all seemed new to me. We passed our days chatting, Rosy apa telling every details of her college, the life style of Dhaka and many more things. My uncle came from his working place and our house became full with relatives for the celebrations. The marriage ceremony held in due time and Rosy apa left for Rajshahi, as my brother-in-law was posted there.

I have finished my meal. Rosy apa yet to finish her, so I kept waiting, my hand still in the plate. I was staring across the room at the photo hanged in the wall. My memory harping the string; Rosy apa followed my gaze, blushed and said,

'What are you trying to find out in this photo?'

'This is your wedding photograph, isn't it,' I asked.

Rosy apa nodded her head.

After dinner the fatigue of train journey exhausted me more. I lay down. Rosy apa drew a chair near my bed and sat with her son in her lap who just learned to sit only.

Again the nostalgic memories drifted freely through our mind. We were passing through everything---stealing of pickles, chewing chocolate, fleeing from school to fish with hooks in the noon, quarreling, scrambling, dropping of friendship and again making friendship, weaving garland of Bakul flower, even the topic of Hamid Bhai also not spared.

All our tittle-tattle was full of old images of this or that day. Only for a brief period, the reference of Hamid Bhai brought silence; spread some agony over Rosy apa's face. With so much talk I was feeling more exhaustion. I closed my eyes, Rosy apa was talking. Suddenly in one point on the mention of Hamid Bhai I asked, my eyes still closed,

'Do you have any idea where Hamid Bhai lives now?'

' Yes, he lives in this town, a lecturer in a college.'

An odd inflexion of her voice caused me to open my eyes. I glanced at her and found a shadow of pain shrouded her face. She startled when her eyes fall on mine; resuming normal mood instantaneously she said jokingly,

'Now you get married. I know a good girl.'

'As good as you?' I asked.

'Am I so good?' Rosy apa laughed.

'Yes, I think so.' I replied,

'Right you are.' Rosy apa strangely excited. Her eyes filled with tears, shining.

'You are always affectionate to me from my childhood. Many a time you have saved me from Mom's rebuke, or from Dad's beating.' I continued.

'In lieu of that you used to bring groundnut or chocolate from grocers for me. You used to hand over my letter to Hamid Bhai.'

This time I felt guilty; her words scratched my conscience. I thought this is the best moment to express the truth. Moreover, I found Rosy apa to be a contended lady with her husband and son.

'Rosy apa, you don't know that I could not deliver your letter to Hamid Bhai that day.' I told her affably.

'Whatt What you said?' I heard Rosy apa's harsh voice as if she is scolding me. I remained silent. She was stiffened, her face twisted with the strain of indecision.

'Perhaps you had forgotten?' She regained her composure and murmured.

'It was exactly so. Finding a lot of vermilion red mangoes on that morning I was very happy and remained busy in collecting the whole lot. In doing so really I had forgotten about the letter. On returning home you have asked me about it and I remembered. But somehow I escaped from your query and thought to deliver it later on. So I pick it out of the pocket only to found that the sticky juice of mango has glued it. Whether it will be readable to see that I ripped the envelope. The words were dabbed with ink and the expression of the letter appeared different. So I took the help of Farid, the all-known boy of our locality. In that letter you had a plan to flee away with Hamid Bhai. I got scared with your plan. I felt very bad.'

'Why? Your Rosy apa will get lost, is it so?' Rosy apa gave a wry smile.

I laughed sadly, the intrusion of memory wretchedly grappling my exhausted mind.

After a while Rosy apa spoke; a softening came over her face, she said very quietly,

'You did a good thing by not delivering the letter on that day. It's really difficult to arrive at a conclusion in one's tender age and to surmise right or wrong. '

Her lip set apart in a sad smile.

'Now how happy I am! Possessing a beautiful house, riding a new car, wearing costly ornaments, surrounded by servants and maids to take care of me. I got everything - good husband, great honour, fame, wealth; above all my this little sweet child.'

Rosy apa stood up in a flurry and kissed her son.

'Now you sleep'. She left the room.

Gazing at her departure it seemed to me Rosy apa capped a verse in light tune, of a trauma, she never talked about.